


Turning Point

by Lightpoint



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Battlefield Surgery, Blood and Violence, Call to the Light, Dark!Rey, Dubious Consent, F/M, Force Sex (Star Wars), Healing Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Initially dubious consent, Past Abuse, Predicament Bondage, Seduced to the Light Side, The Force, evil Rey captures Luke, evil Rey turns to the light side because of magical healing sex ok, evil!Rey, meaning Luke's missing right hand, or so she thinks, semi-graphic description of canon injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6777484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightpoint/pseuds/Lightpoint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for  <a href="https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1082.html?thread=790842#cmt790842"> this prompt</a> from the 'The Force Awakens Kink meme'. </p><p>Rey, trained by Snoke from a young age, defeats and injures Luke Skywalker in a duel after Chewie leaves on the Falcon. She takes him captive and is quickly fascinated by his particular abilities, but Snoke's brainwashing means that she does not understand anything even vaguely related to the Light Side. Luke shows her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Point

**Author's Note:**

> **The Prompt:** [here ](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1082.html?thread=790842#cmt790842)
> 
> _So it turns out Snoke & Kilo Ren got to Rey long before her arrival on the island with Luke. And Luke's not nearly as powerful as he likes to think. After Chewie leaves with the Falcon, Rey sets out to convert the Jedi to the Dark Side... or at least have some fun in the trying._
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I own nothing Star Wars related, and am absolutely positively not making any money off of this.

They waited. Rey circled the packed earth of the mountaintop, her mind tight as a bowstring, the Dark Side ripping acrid wounds in the fabric of the universe. 

The Jedi gazed out into the mist, his breath coming slow and even, grounded in the Living Force. 

Then the _Falcon_ entered hyperspace, and all seven Sith hells broke loose. 

Rey drove her staff into the earth with a deafening _crack._ Skywalker threw himself to the side as the cliff crumbled beneath him, and drew his lightsaber. Rey smirked and activated the hidden switch in her weapon. Red plasma blasted the casing to slag. She bared her teeth, reached into her pack and drew out Darth Vader’s saber. Laughter filled the Force as the Jedi’s eyes widened with shock, and Rey threw herself at him, red and blue blades whirling. 

He lasted longer than she’d expected. On fire with the Dark Side, Rey got the vague impression of him throwing himself into the Living Force, letting go of his _self,_ giving himself over entirely to its will. 

_Fool._

The Force was infinite, of course, but the Jedi’s body was weak. Even with the Force at his back, guiding his movements, his limbs and heart could not hold out forever. The moment the striated muscle – a surprisingly high percentage, for someone of his age – began to bleed into his skin, she lashed out at his weakest point – his right hand. The prosthetic shattered, and Rey _reached._

The sound he made when she ripped the metal out of his arm was a thing of beauty. Rey almost cried. 

The Jedi surprised her again when he didn’t. He crouched on one knee, his breath rough, blood pouring over his fingers as he tried to stanch the flow. 

“Don’t bother,” she said. “You’ve got maybe a minute.” 

His focus sharpened, zeroing in on the brachial artery. Rey stood on the threshold of his mind and watched, incredulous, as he pushed the pain into the background of his awareness – _it’s just the body_ – wrapped it around his senses, and used it to cauterize the wound. 

He smiled up at her, and passed out.

 

*

 

Rey was stirring the fire when he woke. The Jedi blinked in confusion, and pressed carefully against the Force hold on his chest. She caught his eye and gestured sharply, smiling as he winced under the increase in pressure. Rey yawned and stretched, tracing the edges of his mind, enjoying his growing sense of unease as he came back to himself. 

Skywalker’s breath stuttered as his body caught up to his mind. He stared at the bloody, clumsily wrapped stump where his metal hand used to be. 

“Welcome back, Skywalker,” she said. “Pleasant dreams?”

He was lying flat on the floor of his hut, stripped to his under-tunic and trousers, and shackled to the fireplace by his left wrist – Rey had chosen to exercise one of her more esoteric skills, melting the stone and embedding the end of his chain deep in the rock. She’d left about a meter of slack – he was going to need _some_ mobility for what she had planned. 

Not that there was going to be very much of that anytime soon. The duel had left him worn out and limp as a dishcloth. 

“Who are you?” he asked, his eyes flicking from floor to ceiling to the two lightsabers hooked to her belt. Despite herself, Rey flinched as his presence unfurled, scanning her from head to toe. It pricked her skin in waves, like static electricity.

“Just a messenger,” she said. “And we’re going to talk.” 

“You don’t need this,” he said quietly, his mind brushing the Force hold again. “I’m not exactly in fighting form at the moment.”

“And I’m not an idiot,” said Rey, rolling her eyes. 

He gave the chain an experimental tug, frowning as he realized what she’d done.

“Interesting…” he said. “Would you mind telling me how you did this?” Rey smirked and crouched next to his head. She took his chin in her hand and leaned in close.

“Funny you should say that,” said Rey. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” She settled on the floor next to him and brushed a featherlight tendril of her presence across his mind. His jaw clenched as she pulled him closer, her fingers tangling in his soft hair. 

“Your arm,” she whispered, her breath hot on his skin. 

“What about it?” he asked coolly. Rey’s eyes narrowed. His Force presence was as smooth as glass, or a fogged mirror – the closer she got the less she could see. 

She’d have to fix that.

Rey released him and turned back to the fireplace. 

“That isn’t going to hold for much longer,” she said, her eyes flicking towards the cloth-wrapped stump. 

“It’ll do,” he said, eyeing her warily. “There’s bacta in the cupboard over there, if you want to keep me alive _that_ badly.” Rey shook her head.

“You’re rather…spoiled aren’t you?” she said, all pretense of humor dropping from her voice. She sat back on her heels and pulled his right arm into her lap. Luke let out a low hiss as she traced a finger around the top of the bandages. She pressed lightly, smiling a little as her finger came away wet. 

“Look at me,” she said. Blue eyes met sickly yellow orbs. Rey caught a stab of pain, and a strange, half-formed ghost of a thought.

 _\- sun rot – beautiful face -_

Interesting.

The room filled with steam as Rey deliberately poured a cupful of water on the jagged metal knives, hooks, and twisted tools waiting on a rack above the fire. The Jedi had been out cold for several hours, and she’d started preparing as soon as she’d found the hut – her toys glowed a beautiful cherry red. 

“Remember the bacta shortage, oh, twenty years ago?” she asked conversationally, stroking his arm in a mockery of comfort. “I don’t. I was too young. But my Master told me about it. He thought it was hilarious. The failure of science in the face of the reality of war…”

Rey ran her fingers over the handles of her favorite blade, pushing down her wince. The handles were iron and, as metal was an excellent conductor for heat, they could be quite uncomfortable to handle. Though, of course, not as uncomfortable as being on the other end. 

“And who is – “

“A galaxy dragged back into the Night Age...Stitches and maggots for wounds. Bones taking _weeks_ to heal. Infection. Opioids. Entire armies knocked out of action for days and days and days after a single fight…”

Rey took the knife off the fire and started unwrapping the bandage. She wrinkled her nose – the wound was already beginning to stink. _They should have let it heal over before they fit the arm,_ she thought idly. 

“I remember,” said the Jedi. “I ‘stitched up’ quite a few people myself.” His eyes tracked the steaming blade. 

“Now, whatever it is you did during the fight…Well, you shouldn’t have a problem handling this. I need to take some of it off, before the infection gets worse.” Luke glanced at his arm, his face promptly twisting with nausea. And nodded.

“Give me something to bite on,” he said. “I can’t talk if I bite my tongue off. There’s alcohol and fresh bandages over by the bacta.”

Rey blinked. _What?_

“The alcohol is for me, by the way,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “I’m afraid I neglected to bring morphine.”

Slowly Rey set her knife down and headed to the cupboard. 

“Thank you, by the way,” Luke said. “I’d have had to do this myself.”

 _And I have no desire to repeat the experience,_ he thought at her. 

A memory jumped to the surface of his presence – a crashed ship, a dead world, the last bacta-soaked bandage holding his nephew’s intestines in, setting his shattered leg and cauterizing the place where it had broken the skin with his lightsaber. 

Pain.

Rey swallowed, her own memories flashing into the light. 

_Raw fingers scrabbling on wet stone trying trying trying to reach the door, the smell of burning flesh choking her -_

Well, this wasn’t exactly going as planned. 

“Shut up Jedi,” she said. “Or I’ll leave you like this.” 

Luke quirked an eyebrow. 

“Of course,” he said. “Can I have a drink?” 

Rey glared, but she held the bottle of what smelled like engine de-greaser as he took a long pull, grimacing when he waved her away. She stuffed a roll of bandages in his mouth and pulled off the bandage with the heated tongs. 

“Ready?” she heard herself ask. The Jedi nodded curtly and looked away. 

She’d wanted to draw this out. It was possible. Snoke liked to take his time. He’d work on a ‘patient’ for hours. If said patient was a _student,_ well…

_Don’t think. Do. Feel._

_Shut. Up. Jedi._

Luckily there wasn’t much to do. And as healing wasn’t the _point..._ She watched his spirit work. He did whatever it was he did during the duel. His presence burned with a strong, clean fire. To her surprise, it wasn’t _denial_ or compartmentalization. Not at all. 

_Accept. It’s happening. Nothing is forever._ Nothing but the Force.

She slapped him. 

But she burned off the last of the corrupted flesh, and bound his stump with clean cloth. And if it was a little tighter than necessary, well, such is life.

 

*

 

Rey let him sleep for an hour, and then woke him up with a boot in his side. He came to with a startled jerk and a sharp cry. 

“Hello Messenger,” said Luke. He blinked tiredly and moved to rub at his eyes, wincing when the stump brushed his face. 

“Jedi,” said Rey. “Feeling better?” 

He actually did. His tunic was soaked through with sweat, but his face had regained most of its color.

_Looks like Ren wasn’t bullshitting me about the Jedi healing trances…_

“I’ve been worse,” he said. 

There was a surprisingly awkward pause. 

“What do you want?” he asked finally. The Jedi slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position against the fireplace. 

“Tell me,” she said. “Tell me how you did that.” 

“Did what?”

_He’s going to make me say it._

Well, he was going to die soon, anyway. 

“The pain,” she said through clenched teeth. “How did you keep it away?”

He frowned. 

“What do you mean?” 

“The duel. The surgery. You – “ Rey gestured vaguely. Luke’s eyes narrowed as comprehension dawned.

“Didn’t your Master…No? You’re not a Sith, then,” he said. His eyes cut into her spirit. 

“I am stronger than a _Sith,”_ Rey snapped, grasping the front of his tunic and jerking him forward so that their noses were almost touching.

“I meant no offense,” he said. “I merely assumed that a woman as strong in the Dark Side as you would be a Sith. They have reason to hate me, and their own methods of pain management.”

“The Sith were weak. And they are dead.”

 _Aren’t they?_ Rey shivered. _No. They’re gone. Snoke said so._

He paused, considering.

“I can show you, if you’d like.”

Rey swallowed. 

“I’m not sure how your Master would react, but…” 

Luke leaned closer. 

“The Jedi way is one of acceptance,” he said in her ear. “We are luminous beings. We are more than _this,”_ he said. Rey jumped as the bound stump of his arm brushed her side. She was suddenly very aware of the warmth of his body, the rough, sweat-stained cloth twisted in her hand. The musky smell of _male._ “We are part of the Force, just as it is a part of us. Nothing is forever except the Force.” 

“You…” she hissed. “There is _nothing_ but this!”

Rey jerked his tunic and pulled him flush against her chest, tearing the worn cloth. His breath caught as her fingers twisted in his hair. 

“Liar,” she said. “You can’t deny _this.”_ She jerked his head back and pressed him into the wall. For a moment, they shared air. Then her mouth crashed into his, thrusting her tongue past his teeth when he gasped in surprise. 

She went straight for his mind, clawing at his shields even as she pulled him roughly to the floor and tore at his tunic, heat jolting through her when her hands met heated skin, slick with sweat and hard with decades of rough training. His presence rippled in her grasp. There was a bright flare of surprise, quickly followed by an electric shock of _want…_ Dreams - _memories_ \- burned at her awareness – the wet, hot _pull clench,_ of a woman’s soft moan, and his heart was too full and words were not enough anymore --

“Typical Jedi,” Rey muttered, ripping off her own tunic. She straddled him, steadied herself with her palms flat on his chest, settling across his hips. Her core _clenched_ as she ground against the rapidly hardening bulge in his trousers. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Luke said, his voice shaking and rough. His eyes met hers. _“This,”_ he said with careful emphasis. “Is true too. It’s more than what you’ve seen.” 

His shields were as thin as a veil. 

“As is pain. Hunger. Grief…” His eyes traced fire on her skin as he followed a droplet of sweat sliding between her breasts. “Pleasure.” 

He thrust against her, and let her into his mind. 

Rey’s senses whited out as she passed effortlessly through his shields. Everything _hurt._ She breathed lightning and knives. Threads and hands tossed her about in a noisy frenzy. Voices stabbed at her – 

_Great shot kid that was one in a million! No. I am your Father. You’re going to be an Uncle! Ben was weak. So I destroyed him. This is a perfect place for a garden… Master Skywalker! Help us! Please!_

Warm fingers threaded with hers. Luke’s right arm curled around her waist and clutched her to his chest, held her as she sobbed. Slowly, painfully, she opened her mind. Not much. Just enough for him to _see._

She tensed, ready to run.

_You’re not alone._

Dimly Rey was aware of him taking her hand - _when did he get free_ \- and pressing it to his cheek. She shuddered as she fell back into her body. Her skin felt too _tight,_ somehow, her senses full to bursting – skin sliding rough and delicious against her breasts, dust and the acrid smell of hot iron in her nose, the prickle of beard under her fingers. Shadows dancing in the firelight. A red sun setting on a lost, lonely island. A planet on the edge of nowhere. 

_Do you see?_

Rey leaned forward and took Luke’s head in her hands.

 _Yes._

She kissed him like she was trying to climb inside. Luke groaned as they devoured each other with lips and teeth, only coming up for air when their heads swam and their lungs burned. Rey arched into him, tugging at the drawstring of his pants with trembling fingers, losing her focus completely when he cupped her left breast. He surged up to meet her, pulling her into his lap, swallowing the soft, stuttering noises she made with a kiss. 

They paused, flushed and panting, when they were fully nude, Luke’s hand was firm on her hip, the ridge of his cock rocking hard and sweet between her folds. Rey _reached,_ wrapped the burn of his presence around her, pressed back with her own flame. She sent a silent question.

Luke captured Rey’s mouth again, shared her breath, and nodded, pulling her close as she reached down and guided him inside her. 

She took him slowly, consumed by the slow, hot stretch, gasping when she met his hips, the head deep and thick inside her. He groaned roughly, tucked tight against her neck. 

“Rey…” she whispered in his ear. “I’m Rey.”

“I’m Luke.”

She smiled into his skin. She felt the rumble in his chest before she heard the low, throaty chuckle. 

_“Luke – “_ she gasped out as a shallow thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through her. 

“Good?” he murmured. Rey could only nod as her body shook, and tried to pull him deeper.

They started slow, adjusting to the sensory overload as the tension built and Rey’s shields thinned even further. She felt every thrust right  
down to her bones. When Luke gently traced the edge between their minds, Rey opened for him just as he had for her, showed him her life. 

And he stayed. They went over the edge together.

Hours later, the island was quiet, save for the wind and the waves. A Jedi and an Adept sat cross-legged in the grass, their hands clasped tight, at one with the Living Force.


End file.
